


A Lesson In Strategy

by kiwiqueen



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Bakery and Coffee Shop, Cockblocking, F/M, Flirting, Fluff and Smut, Food, Kissing, Pokemon Battles, Pre-Relationship, Reader-Insert, Secret Relationship, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:07:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22479919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiwiqueen/pseuds/kiwiqueen
Summary: The shift rapidly ceased its normalcy when you saw the unusually tall figure towering in the doorway.  Despite your surprise at the Dragon Tamer suddenly appearing at your door, you tried your best to retain your professional composure and welcoming smile.
Relationships: Kibana | Raihan/Reader
Comments: 16
Kudos: 256





	1. Chapter 1

It wasn’t too uncommon to see some fairly famous trainers. That was just to be expected when you worked at the Wyndon City battle cafe.

That morning, like most mornings, you got up and got dressed in your candy-colored work uniform. You took the train to work; Chairman Rose and the constant presence of the Pokemon League kept the public transportation running efficiently and reliably. Upon arrival, you tied a checkered apron on over your pink dress and selected your team of two for the day. They weren’t your Pokemon. The cafe kept fairly tight limits not only on the level of Pokemon in the interest of keeping the battles fair for customers, but also on what kinds of Pokemon could be used in keeping with the cafe’s sweet ambiance. You perused the assortment of available monsters–Slurpuff, Vanillish, Cherubi, Polteageist, and Alcremie in every flavor, to name a few–and selected a pair that you had become rather fond of.

And the beginning of the shift was fairly normal. You put on a pot of Komala coffee and a pot of Roserade tea, and you set out some sweets on display.

It wasn’t too uncommon to see some fairly famous trainers. That was just to be expected when you worked at the Wyndon City battle cafe. But the shift rapidly ceased its normalcy when you saw the unusually tall figure towering in the doorway.

Despite your surprise at the Dragon Tamer suddenly appearing at your door, you tried your best to retain your professional composure and welcoming smile.

“Hello, welcome to the battle cafe! You can battle here once a day, and if you win, we’ll give you a treat on the house. What do you say, do you want to battle?” The scripted words rolled off your tongue with well-practiced ease. Your job at the cafe was a repetitive sort of comfort. Not that you were complaining, necessarily. You were still able to make a living of battling Pokemon, even if they weren’t your own carefully picked and lovingly raised team members. No, they stayed at home while you worked. Every year, you swore you would take on the gym challenge, and every year, time got away from you. Perhaps this year. . .

Raihan grinned, baring his jagged teeth. “I’d love a battle.”

You sent out two Pokemon apiece and commenced the battle. His playful appearance fell away the moment Duraludon and Flygon were out, giving way to the intense ferocity that you had only witnessed in matches on television. He and his team moved with an elegant and terrifying synchronicity that might have scared the other patrons if there had been any in the small cafe. Despite your having the type advantage over his dragon types, the gym leader made quick work of your borrowed team. You walked back behind the counter to retrieve his reward, but he placed some money on the counter.

“I’d like a cup of tea and an Old Gateau, please,” he gave a gentle smile this time and said your name, reading from the nametag on your apron. You raised an eyebrow and poured him a cup of tea. He took his tea and cake and took a seat near the counter. A Rotom phone appeared from his bag and began taking photos of the handsome leader and his food as he ate.

Busying yourself behind the counter, you tried to ignore him, but your eyes were drawn to him. He glanced away from his phone and winked at you. “You and your Pokemon have a great connection. I really admire a trainer who can understand her Pokemon so well.”

“Oh, they aren’t mine,” you put down the mug you had been drying. “They belong to the cafe master. I just borrow them on my shifts. My own Pokemon are back at my apartment. I’m not allowed to battle with my own team here.”

“Really? You could’ve fooled me. You must be an exceptional trainer to connect so deeply with Pokemon that aren’t even yours.”

“Thanks.” Pleased with the compliment but unsure how else to respond, you returned to the dishes. The cafe was quiet for a moment.

“You’re a trainer then?” Raihan looked at you with a glint in his bright blue eyes. “Why haven’t I seen you in my gym? I would’ve remembered a beautiful young woman like you.”

“I. . . er. . . I haven’t taken on the gym challenge.”

“And why is that?”

Another moment’s quiet fell between you. You answered softly. “I’ve never been certain that I’m really good enough to do it.” You weren’t sure where the sudden honesty was coming from. Normally you wouldn’t admit that to anyone, especially yourself, and certainly not a man you’d just met, but there was something about him.

Raihan stared at you with a serious look for a moment before bursting out into laughter. “That’s ridiculous. I’ve seen much worse trainers than you make it well past Kabu. And that’s with their own Pokemon.”

You weren’t sure how to take that, so you frowned. Raihan, done with his tea and his pastry, approached the counter and looked deep into your eyes. “I’m saying a talented trainer like you could go far in the challenge. I may have only battled you once, but I can tell. Maybe you could even beat me, with some practice.”

It was only then that you realize just how absurdly tall he was. “Thanks, but I’m still just not sure.”

“You should consider it. I’ll even endorse you. And, hey, if you want some strategy pointers I can give you some. You should come visit me. Rose of the Rondelands, room 241.” He gave you a look you couldn’t quite decipher and turned to leave.

“Wait,” you took a step towards him and held out a Sweet Heart. “For winning our battle.”

~

The shift ended without further incident. You took the train back home, changed into more casual clothes, and let your Pokemon out to feed them. Raihan’s offer persisted in the back of your mind. Rose of the Rondelands, room 241. Should you take him up? The proposition of a lesson in strategy must certainly have been a guise for something less innocent, but the possibility of an endorsement was enough to tempt you regardless. And if it was a pretense for something. . . did that really bother you? Or was that the real reason you wanted to go? When your team was done eating, you returned them to the balls now hooked to your belt and made for the door.

Thus, you found yourself on the second floor of the Rose of the Rondelands hotel, glancing down at your clothes and hoping you looked alright. Your hand, curled into a fist, hovered over the door. You pushed down your doubts and knocked.

The Dragon Tamer answered the door in an instant. He smelled sweet, like he had just gotten out of the shower. He welcomed you by name and gestured for you to come in.

A space in the middle of the ornate hotel room had been cleared, and on the floor sat a checkered game board, several game pieces in three different colors, and a pair of dice. Raihan took you gently by the hand to usher you over to the board. “Sit down,” he encouraged. You took seats on the floor opposite of one another, and Raihan began to explain the rules of the game in detail. “This is how Leon and I like to practice strategies,” he expounded. The game began, and you each set yourself to the task of capturing the other’s pieces while accounting for color advantages and trying to predict the other’s next move. Unlike in battle, he adopted a dangerously calm demeanor, carefully calculating every move before he made it. His long legs crossed in front of him made him look awkward, almost childlike, in stark contrast to his measured gameplay.

With one last toss of the dice, you took Raihan’s final piece. “I believe that means I win.”

When you looked up from the game board, his eyes were wide. “Wow. . .” he murmured. “Beat me on your first try. You really must be a great trainer.”

“Good game,” you offered him your hand. Raihan gazed down at it for a moment before taking it and giving you a lingering handshake. His dazzling eyes shifted onto yours for a fraction of a second before he pulled you into a kiss, the deep and passionate kind that wiped all thoughts of games and strategy from your mind. He pulled back.

“Ah, is this okay?”

“Yeah,” you nodded before closing the space between you again, craving the warmth of his lips on yours. You tugged gently at his bottom lip with your teeth while running your hands along the shaved sides of his hair. Raihan curled one hand into your hair and rested the other on the curve of your hip. Soon you both pulled away, desperate for air, and he rested his forehead against yours.

He pushed himself to a standing position, and you followed suit, tracing his footsteps onto the soft hotel bed. He rested on both knees, and you sat straddling him, your lips coming together once more. Your hands traveled up his hoodie. With his penchant for sandstorms in battle you expected his skin to be rough, but in reality it was surprisingly soft. His hands mirrored yours, exploring your skin under your shirt. Raihan pulled away, and you slid his hoodie off of him, his headband falling off in the process. He removed your top in response. The kiss resumed, his tongue working its way between your lips, and you could feel his hands working at the clasps of your bra.

A loud buzzing sound suddenly filled the room. Raihan’s Rotom phone flew out of his bag, the way it had in the cafe earlier. It displayed a picture of Champion Leon on the screen. Raihan heaved a sigh and answered the phone. He paced restlessly around the room as he spoke. You admired his mostly-bare form as he did so.

“Yes, Leon, I understand that, but-”

“Leon, I’m kind of in the middle of-”

“Sure, I’ll be there as soon as I can. Goodbye.”

He gave you an apologetic look. “Go do what you need to do,” you reassured him, pulling your clothes back on. “Important League stuff, I get it. Maybe I can join you in it when I beat the gym challenge.”

His face lit up. “So you’ll do it?”

You nodded. “Of course, if it’s you that’s endorsing me. How about I give you my phone number and my SnapChatot, and we can see each other again before the challenge starts. Hopefully without Leon interrupting this time.”

“That would be fantastic. Do you have an InstaGranbull? You should follow me.”

With information exchanged and another date promised, you left the hotel together. He kissed you goodbye before you went your separate ways.

“I’ll see you in the challenge.”


	2. Chapter 2

You had received the text message from Raihan three days ago. He and the other gym leaders would be in Wyndon for exhibition matches as a warm-up before the season, open for the public to watch. He said he would have a match against Bea and that you should come watch them if you were available.

The idea of seeing him again was exhilarating. You hadn’t seen each other since the incident at Rose of the Rondelands, but a steady stream of flirty texts had ensued in the time since. You battled patrons at the cafe with a renewed vigor, hoping for him to come through the door again. And he had sent you a letter of endorsement. It seemed this was truly, finally happening.

So not only would you go to see Raihan, you would go to see what kind of battles you’d be facing soon.

Wyndon Stadium was already bustling with excited fans by the time you arrived. Admission for these exhibition matches was free and on a first-come first-served basis, but when you showed your ID as was typical procedure for keeping track of attendance at such an event, a Macro Cosmos employee took you aside. Two other employees in white uniforms and dark sunglasses appeared next to you and showed you into the stadium. The crowd parted before the uniformed workers, and you followed, somewhat confused, in the wake they created. Finally you arrived at an empty seat right by the pitch, and as you sat, the Macro Cosmos men disappeared.

The lights turned harsh, and the crowd began to cheer as a booming voice announced the arrival of the gym leaders. Your back straightened as you saw Raihan approach opposite the karate master. He strode out with a casual kind of grace about him, while Bea trekked in surrounded with a serious aura. The pair of powerful trainers shook hands, and the battle began.

Loud music blared over the stadium’s speakers, drowning out the opponent’s strings of commands directed at their Pokemon and trash talk directed at each other. Dry heat filled the space as Torkoal and Halucha attacked each other with a series of ruthless blows. Rotom snapped a photo as Bea’s first Pokemon fainted. The intensity of the battle built, with Turtonator riding out the end of the drought, then Flygon kicking up Raihan’s iconic sandstorm. It reached its height when Machamp and Duraludon stood in their enormous forms on opposite sides of the pitch. Raihan posed and shouted ferociously as the Pokemon fought, and Rotom continued taking snapshots as Bea’s Machamp fell to the ground.

Around you the crowd went wild, some of them chanting Raihan’s name. He and Bea shook hands and parted as the audience members began to file out. You rubbed your eyes, aching from the harsh light and flying sand, and when you opened them, Raihan was below you on the pitch.

He called out your name. “Follow me!”

“Um,” you looked around for a moment, “how do I get down there?”

Raihan laughed as if the answer should have been obvious. “Jump down,” he said. “I promise I’ll catch you.”

You hesitated. Wouldn’t someone try to stop you? But the bustling crowd and Raihan’s confidence were reassuring. You climbed over the rail separating the seats from the pitch and let yourself fall forward, weightless for just a moment in the air, into Raihan’s waiting arms. He set you down and started walking. You followed close behind him into his locker room.

“Are you allowed to have guests back here?” you asked.

He spread his arms out with a wide grin. “Who’s gonna stop me?”

You took a step toward Raihan and then faltered. What did he have in mind, inviting you back here? It was possible he wanted to discuss battles and the gym challenge. He closed the distance between you and ran one thumb along your cheek. “You’re covered in sand,” he chuckled.

“Oh, as if you can talk! Your hair is full of the stuff.”

A devious look crossed his face. His hands moved down to the hem of your shirt. “Maybe we should get in the shower then.” Okay, maybe this wasn’t a strategy talk.

“I like the way you think,” your hand sneaked under his hoodie. You reached up to pull it off over his head. In a flurry of abandoned clothing almost as wild as his sandstorms, Raihan was pulling you into the shower with him and pulling the curtain shut behind you. Hot water poured down over your already-hot body. A pair of lips pressed greedily against your own, and a pair of hands ran up and down along the curves between your breasts and hips.

Raihan’s lips parted from yours. “You’re so beautiful.” Before you could answer, his mouth was on your neck, sucking gently at your pulse point, and all words escaped you. His lips trailed downward toward your chest. He took one nipple into his mouth and cupped the opposite breast in one hand. You shivered despite the heat of the water. Your fingers dug into his shoulders. His teeth grazed against your nipple; you felt yourself grow weak in the knees. One of your hands moved into his wet hair, and you peppered kisses along his forehead. Raihan removed his mouth from your breast and returned to your lips.

Suddenly the water cascading over your bodies was ice cold. You pulled away from his kiss with a start and turned off the water.

Water shut off, you and Raihan looked into each others eyes and started to laugh. “One of these days,” Raihan said, “we won’t be interrupted.” He wrung water out of his hair.

“One of these days?” you opened the shower curtain.

He bared his sharp teeth. “Well, you can’t expect me to just give up on a woman like you because of a phone call and some cold water.” Raihan wrapped one towel around his hair and tossed another to you.

Once you were dry and clothed, you stood by the door. There would likely be reporters and fans waiting outside the locker room, ready to bombard you with questions or tear you apart. Raihan stood beside you and wrapped an arm around your shoulder.

“Hey,” he said, “don’t worry what anyone outside is gonna think. I’m endorsing you. I’ll be there to support you.” He gave you a kiss on the cheek, and you opened the door.


	3. Chapter 3

The hotel rooms in the Budew Drop Inn were not quite as nice as those in the Rose of the Rondelands, but given the conditions of your one-bedroom apartment in Wyndon, you weren’t complaining. The beds were still soft, the bathrooms still clean. Your things were scattered about the room: a few changes of clothes, several potions, and a box of sweets that your boss had given you as a good-luck present when you told him you were leaving for the gym challenge.

Housekeeping seemed to have come through while you were at Motostoke Stadium for the opening ceremony. You fell gratefully into the freshly-made bed. The ceremony itself had passed mostly in a blur. Seeing all of the gym leaders had dredged up a familiar feeling of uncertainty, but Raihan’s friendly face had reassured you. 

It was what came afterwards that had been truly tiring.

Eagle-eyed reporters desperate for a scoop had recognized you from Raihan’s locker room some time ago. You had prepared for it to happen, but it was overwhelming nevertheless. You had managed to play him off as nothing more than a mentor, the gym leader who had discovered your talent and decided to sponsor you and coach you on the path to a promising victory. This, though, had only prompted a new series of questions. What would you do when you had to face off against your sponsor? Would you be taking over the Hammerlocke Gym if Raihan became champion?

You buried your face into the fluffy pillow. It smelled like a Sweet Scent from a Roserade.

Your phone buzzed. A text from Raihan. “Have you escaped the media nightmare?”

“Yeah.” You were too tired to think of a clever response.

“Mind if I come over then?”

You responded with your room number at the Budew Drop–it matched the number on the back of your challenger uniform.

Raihan was coming over. It was sure to bring a new wave of questions from those journalists–what kind of mentor visits his student in her hotel room?–but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. His presence would be enough to outweigh the inevitable headache. You closed your eyes and enjoyed the silence of the hotel room, ears still ringing from the din of Motostoke Stadium.

Perhaps you fell asleep; you weren’t sure how much time passed before you heard the knock at the door. You hoisted yourself up from your sanctum on the bed.

Raihan ducked into the room. Despite the frustration that you knew he had faced earlier, he managed a bright expression.

He flopped easily down onto your bed. “So what’d you think of the opening ceremony?”

“It was. . . a lot,” you took a seat next to him.

He laughed. “Ah, it’s all a bunch of posturing from the Chairman. Me and the other gym leaders call it ‘intimidate the challengers time.’ The challenge isn’t really all that. You’ll have no trouble with it at all.”

You looked away, unsure how to respond to the compliment, and your eyes landed on the box of sweets.

“Do you want something to eat?”

Something crossed Raihan’s face, and he bared his sharp teeth in something between a smile and a snarl. “Will you feed it to me?”

You matched his expression and stood to grab the box. “It would be my pleasure.”

Raihan opened his mouth wide. Returning to the spot next to him on the bed, you opened the box, selected a Big Malasada from the assortment of confections, and held it to his waiting lips.

“Come closer,” he hooked his arms under your legs and pulled you into his lap. The movement brought the malasada closer to him, and he sank his pointed canines into it. You wrapped your other arm around his shoulders. Raihan took a second bite of the malasada. Some of the filling from the malasada coated the corner of his lip, and you impulsively leaned in to lick it off. It tasted sweet against his salty skin. In two more bites, the malasada was finished, and his lips were on yours. Your tongue parted his lips. His mouth tasted sweeter than the pastry’s filling.

As you pulled back, Raihan made a sound in the back of his throat.

You reached towards the box again and selected a Sweet Heart, just as you had done after battling him at the cafe. The chocolate quickly began melting in your fingers, and the warmth of your partner’s breath only accelerated the process. After he had eaten the candy, he grabbed your wrist and licked the melted chocolate from your fingers.

Tangling your hands in his hair, you pulled him into another kiss and tasted the lingering chocolate flavor of the Sweet Heart. Your tongue explored the inside of his mouth, and you could feel him pressing against your hips.

His lips broke contact with yours. He trailed kisses from your jawline down toward your collarbones, then he tugged at the collar of your shirt to nip at the sensitive skin beneath. His fingers pressed firmly into your hips, while yours tugged gently at his hair. You let one hand cup his cheek while the other slipped under his shirt. Raihan pulled back to allow you to remove his clothing before leaning back in to do the same to you. One of his hands moved up to your chest to pinch a nipple between his fingers. The opposite hand moved to your belt.

It was met with an impatient shaking. The Pokemon in their balls at your waist were demanding to be let out.

“Ah,” you shared in Raihan’s surprise, “I’ve been trying to keep them on a schedule. I must’ve lost track of time, what with the ceremony at the stadium and all the reporters and all, and now is the time I’d usually take them out for some training.” You hoped you weren’t rambling.

Raihan gazed at you with a soft smile gracing his features. “You’re amazing.”

“I know I am,” you threw Raihan’s discarded clothing back at him and began to put your own back on.

The sun was low over the Motostoke cityscape when you exited the hotel, six Pokemon and one gym leader by your side. Vibrant reds and oranges washed the city in a warm light. A cool breeze and the glow of the setting sun peppered kisses over your exposed skin as the eight of you took off in a jog down Motostoke’s extenstive streets. Many sets of footsteps and flapping wings echoed around you in a symphony of heavy breathing. Your eyes fell closed. You took in a breath of the cold air.

When you opened them again, Raihan had pulled ahead of you. You sped up to break even with him, but he did the same and stayed a few steps ahead. You put on another burst of speed to no avail. Your lungs started to burn, your muscles started to ache, but Raihan stayed just in front of you. In a fit of desperation, you pooled all of your remaining strength together and leapt. Your arms wrapped around his broad chest as the full force of your body flung you both to the pavement.

You clambered to your feet, scanning your body and his for any injuries. A pair of arms wrapped around your waist and dragged you back to the ground.

Both of you laughed, and he pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“Raihan-”

“I’m not worried. It’s late, and hardly anyone is out.”

He was right. The sun had almost completely set, and the streets were abandoned but for a few stray Hoothoot and Zigzagoon. You stood again and offered him your hand to help him up. The pair of you walked more slowly the rest of the way down Motostoke’s central street, letting your labored breathing subside. Gradually, your Pokemon fell in beside you, and you returned them to their balls. You shivered as the cold wind ruffled your hair.

“Aren’t you cold?” Raihan looked sideways at you. “Do you want my jacket?”

“No, I’m okay.”

“Are you saying that because you’re really okay, or are you saying that because you’re too nice?”

You didn’t answer.

Raihan stopped walking and pulled off his hoodie, leaving him in only his collared shirt. His scent overwhelmed you as you pulled on his hoodie, and you smiled. The sleeves were far too long. You rolled them up to your elbows so that you could reach for his hand.

Hand-in-hand, you walked in silence until you reached the city gates. Night had fully fallen, and together you gazed up at the stars as they shone gently against the light pollution of the city. Raihan released your hand and turned away from the gates.

“I’ll race you back to the hotel.”

He took off running down the street.

“Hey, wait!”

You started after him, sprinting at full speed in a futile attempt to catch up, but he had a head start and no intention of letting you win.

When you finally arrived, panting, at the Budew Drop, Raihan was already there, leaning against a wall near the door. “I thought you’d never make it. After you” He held one glass door open for you.

He accompanied you back to your hotel room. You removed and returned his jacket, but when he turned to walk away, you couldn’t hold yourself back.

“Hey, Raihan?”

“Yeah?” He turned eagerly to face you.

“Do you want to sleep here tonight?”

He smiled a sharp, toothy smile. “That sounds wonderful.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't updated this fic in literal months, and this chapter is a little more fluffy and prose-y than the previous ones, but I hope you all enjoy anyway

Seven badges nearly filled the ring that you held above your head. None of them had given you too terribly much trouble.

Your tent was pitched in the Hammerlocke Hills, just outside the city where the final gym was located. It had been nearly two weeks since you had defeated the seventh gym, and in the meantime you had been training outside of Hammerlocke under the excuse that the final gym would be the most difficult in the gym challenge, and you didn’t want to go in without sufficient preparation. The truth was that it was pure procrastination.

Since you had started the challenge, you hadn’t heard a word from Raihan. For a while you had reasoned that he was probably busy. He was a gym leader, after all, and challenge season was the busiest time of the year for them. The excuse hardly held water, though. He led the eighth gym, and as a result, he got the fewest challengers, especially early on.

Besides, he was constantly updating his social media. He posted new photos to InstaGranbull every other day, and his SnapChatot was never without a story.

You tried not to think about it. Your Pokemon were stronger than you imagined they might become, and you had already made a name for yourself as one of only a handful of trainers to make it this far. You could be fulfilled without him, right?

No matter. You had promised yourself to take on the Hammerlocke gym the next morning.

You put out the cooking fire, returned your Pokemon to their balls, and went to sleep.

While you slept, you dreamt of a battle. It was raining, and you were soaked to the skin. You couldn’t see your opponent through the downpour, but you could tell they were strong. It was difficult to tell who was winning. All you could do was continue calling out commands into the storm.

You woke up before the battle could finish.

The sun was shining above the line of trees that bordered the hillside. Morning went as expected; a routine had developed easily over the course of your weeks training. You cooked breakfast for your team and yourself before breaking down your tent.

Then you made for the gate outside Hammerlocke. You didn’t bother stopping in the Pokemon Center in the central part of town. You merely made directly for the gym.

The exterior was large, imposing. Its grand facade hinted that it was older than the gyms that you had faced previously. The dark stone and abundant turrets told you that its purpose had not always been so frivolous as Pokemon battling.

Your powers of observation had improved steadily over the course of your travels. The practice of picking out details and spinning them to your advantage had become second nature.

And you owed that skill, at least in part, to the leader you were about to face.

Once inside, you wasted no time in changing into your challenger uniform. You shed your camping clothes and replaced them with the pristine outfit that you had worn for each previous victory. One hand brushed over a wrinkle on the front of your jersey, smoothing down over the front of your body and feeling the contours.

You exited the locker room and made for the battle pitch.

A familiar figure stood at the opposite side. “Hey,” he gave a charming smile that you did not return. “I see your gym challenge has been going well.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “it has.”

He extended a hand. “Then how about we get this battle started?”

You shook it, and the battle commenced.

Exactly as expected, he sent out Gigalith and Flygon as his first two Pokemon, and Gigalith kicked up a sandstorm. You squinted and covered your eyes with one of your hands to shield them from the sand that flew about the stadium. Wind howled in your ears, and you had to shout to make your commands heard.

This was your second time battling Raihan, but your first with your own team. You recalled how easily he had taken down your team in the cafe before, but this time through, your Pokemon were overtaking his.

The sandstorm had subsided by the time Gigalith was defeated, but a thoughtless hit against Sandaconda sent up another. Each of you screamed into the raging weather. Raihan Gugantamaxed his Duraludon, and you Dynamaxed to counter.

Duraludon fell, and the battle ended. You crossed to the center of the pitch to shake hands with Raihan and receive your badge.

“It’s good to see you again,” he gave a wink.

You turned and made for your locker room.

Inside, you shook sand from your hair and clothes. It fell in rivulets onto the locker room floor. You stripped of your challenger uniform, sand still clinging to the fabric, and pulled your normal clothes back on.

Raihan was waiting for you outside.

“Hey.”

You nodded to him in response and walked towards the exit of the stadium.

“Wait!” He followed after you, his long legs easily keeping pace.

Once you reached the streets of Hammerlocke, you whirled around to face him. “Why should I wait for you? I haven’t heard from you in weeks.”

He nearly crashed into you with your sudden stop. “I-I’m sorry,” he stammered out. “All those reporters just gave you so much trouble at the exhibition matches. I just didn’t want your challenge to be affected by me.”

“Well you could’ve at least told me that,” you turned back towards the Wild Area and kept going.

“You’re right,” he conceded. “I should’ve. Will you let me make it up to you?”

You stopped. You weren’t in a hurry, you supposed, and you had missed his company. “Sure.”

He put out a hand, and you tentatively took it. His touch warmed your hand, beyond the typical heat of his body. “Come on.” Raihan led you back into the stadium, hand-in-hand, to, unexpectedly, a vending machine at a side wall. He bought two bottles of lemonade, offering one to you. After you took it, he led you outside to the Wild Area.

The midday sun felt purifying on your face. Each of you twisted the top off your lemonades and took a long drink.

You pulled your camping supplies from your pack and threw out a blanket onto the ground for you both to sit on. You sat and drank your sweet, tart drinks, talking and holding hands. Raihan settled gradually closer to you, eventually wrapping an arm around your waist.

Then he broke away suddenly, one hand going to a ball at his belt. “Have you ever been flying before?”

“Um,” you hesitated, “I’ve been in flying taxis.”

He shook his head. “No, not like that. I mean really flying.” He let out his Flygon and stood up, offering a hand to you again.

When the blanket and bottles were cleaned up, you both climbed onto Flygon’s back, Raihan in front, with you pressed up against his broad back. Your arms wrapped around him tightly, and you breathed in his scent.

Flygon took off into the bright blue sky. The ground below you fell away, and the gentle breeze tickled your face in a sensation unlike you had ever felt before. The white clouds overhead were perfect and fluffy; the scene felt like something out of a dream. You secured your grip more closely around Raihan as Flygon spun into a trick maneuver. He called a command out to the dragon, and it lowered you on to the top of a rock formation. He summoned it back into its ball.

Without a second thought, you pulled him down into a kiss. He cupped your face with one hand and used the other to bring you closer against him. You parted his lips with your tongue.

Like the earth when you had taken off on Flygon’s back, all of your worries fell away. The league, the media coverage, all of it seemed small as you stood there, far away from the rest of the world, with Raihan’s lips on yours.


End file.
